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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2278567-The-Disorientation
by OhNo
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #2278567
An elf wakes in the midst of battle without any memory, and tries his best to survive.
The boy woke to the muffled sound of the autumn leaves rustling and a faint ringing in his ears. A light breeze wove throughout the trees, making the orange and red leaves drop to the ground, and his dark hair flutter in his face. Everything was peaceful, however a tense feeling hovered in the air. He opened his eyes and stared at the trees and cloudy sky for a second.

As he sat up, the grim sight of hundreds, maybe thousands, of dead bodies littered throughout the forest greeted him. He immediately rushed to his feet, but a sudden pain shot throughout his left leg, forcing him to the ground. His leg was nearly completely covered by a multitude of bloody bandages and his light gray-blue skin had turned into a gray and brown color. He tried to remember what might have occurred, but nothing came to mind. He took his boots off and saw that his foot was fractured.

“What happened.. Where am I? ..Where’s- Ow!” He winced and lay on the ground.

He desperately tried to recall what happened, his name, who he was. As he sat up and glanced around, the bodies of elves, centaurs, and dragons surrounded him, decorated with dried blood. Various swords, arrows, spears, and many other weapons were scattered throughout the scene as well. The remnants of a battle. A noticeably large lion-like being shambled in the distance. It seemed to be checking some of the other elves for signs of life. The creature gave him a calming sensation, so he figured it must be someone he must have known. He was about to yell for help but it continued to wander further and further away, until it disappeared from sight.

Most of the elven soldiers were dead, but some were breathing very heavily, or coughing up blood. He couldn’t reach them in time. They were barely alive and were going to die at any minute. No clear survivors. He suddenly noticed a dragon laying in front of him, only a couple feet away. It was a common riding dragon, about twice the size of a horse. It looked familiar. Noticing him, it stood up and wobbled towards him, only to let out a pained growl and fall on its side. He froze and wondered if he should help. Its golden scales were becoming a dark crimson, and dozens of arrows protruded from its body.

There was no doubt that the creature was struggling to stay alive. Cautiously scooting closer, he saw it wore an elaborate muzzle and saddle, decorated with elven jewelry. It wasn’t an enemy. A pack hung from the saddle, the names Caen and Vin, along with a number, 36741, engraved on it. Caen.. that name sounded familiar.
Staggering a little, he leaned against a nearby tree, trying to ignore the pain. He walked towards the creature and searched the bag for anything that could help them. It was filled with potions and other medical items, none of which were very useful for either of them. He found the right medicine, but saw that there wasn’t enough for the two of them. He glanced at the dragon. It had begun breathing very shallowly. He took its muzzle off and opened the small, blue bottle, but paused.

It wasn’t an enemy, but it had a good chance of being poisoned with a Mania Arrow. It'd be long beyond help if that happened. Even if it hasn’t gone mad, he thought, I probably shouldn’t heal it; we could easily be seen by an enemy. Then I’d still need to heal my leg, or I’d die for certain. If I took the potion, I’d survive, but I’d probably find the enemy before I’d find help. The enemy.. He screamed and threw the bottle against a tree, instantly regretting it. It shattered into countless pieces. Glass flew everywhere. The blue drink trickled down the tree and onto the ground. Green moss started growing in its trail, soaking up the liquid. He let out a deep breath and slumped on the ground.

Hours later. The sky was painted with blends of yellow, pink, violet, orange, and red. A sunset like this would have been peaceful if it didn’t mean night was close. Where he lived, everyone would be sent inside their homes when sundown came, and the available guards and armed forces watched over the kingdom's magical barrier. The Queen or the guards never stated why, but it’s thought that this is due to the more large and deadly creatures, such as giants, being nocturnal. To him, this was questionable, as the barrier can only be opened, closed, or broken with certain spells, not by force or any other way.

Most giants are intelligent and friendly, and were allies to the elven kingdom in the past. They aren’t allies anymore due to too many incidents and their extreme and unpredictable mood swings, but that didn’t seem to be enough of a reason to have that security at the barrier every night. The creatures on the other continents are hazardous, but nothing known here is considered an extreme threat. Current enemies, like centaurs, witches, and demons, don’t know the elven form of magic so they can’t use the spell for the barrier, and the spell is highly classified anyways.

He’d been reviewing these memories he’d gotten as he walked throughout the forest. The young elf now rested on a tree branch, watching the sunset and rewrapping his leg in more bandages. He mostly remembered things from one or two months ago, but it was foggy, and he still couldn’t remember anything after that time period, or what’s currently been going on. This was odd but he figured the rest of his memories would come back soon.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2278567-The-Disorientation